MAN-O'-WAR 



i : 



FRANKLIN 





ENNESS 



"/ 




Class T53SL^ 
Book, >E.C>7 M3 



GoEyrightW 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES 



MAN-O'-WAR 
RHYMES 

BURT FRANKLIN JENNESS 




THE CORNHILL COMPANY 

BOSTON 



AX 






Copyright 1918 

by 

THE CORNHILL COMPANY 



SEP k4 1319 
?>CU530932 

v . 



TO MY WIFE 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Pictures 3 

The Fire-Room Crew 5 

The Ambulance Corps 7 

The Call 9 

The Censor 11 

Our Union .13 

The Welcome 14 

The Engineers 16 

" Signal Bill " 17 

Aloha 20 

The Refugee 22 

Let the Sea Give Answer! 23 

A Prayer 25 

A Galley Yarn 26 

A Soldier's Soliloquy 30 

The Stretcher-Bearers 32 

The Difference 33 

The Army Mule 34 

The Cavalry 35 

The National Army 36 

The Sea 37 

The Verdict .39 

The Flare-Back 43 

The Old Gun Deck 47 

The Boat Race 50 

fviil 



$ CONTENTS $ 

Page 

The Deserter 55 

Flaherty's Ghost 61 

Homeward Bound 65 

The Call of the Sea 69 

Sergeant Reilly 72 

To An Albatross 78 

Grub 81 

The Balance 83 

The Rookie 84 

The Men of the Sea 86 

The Lure of the East 88 



FOREWORD 

You men of that unfathomed wild: 

Where goes no man unreconciled 

To wrestle with the destinies 

Ordained upon the seven seas; 

As one who holds your ills at heart, 

Has lived of your strange life a part, 

To you, of every clime and clan, 

Here I would speak, as man to man; 

Men hailed from forecastle and poop, 

On yacht and schooner, bark and sloop, 

On liner, merchantman and brig, 

Split-s'l, cat, yawl and full-rig; 

On gun-boat, cruiser, man o' war — 

These simple rhymes were written for. 

I would that each befitting line 
Might be a tiny, lasting shrine 
To all your noble, roving kind — 
And to their deeds I've had in mind. 
The men who've sniffed the deep sea air; 
Who've braved the seas with poles stripped bare; 
Who've heard the free screws pound and race; 
Who've felt the salt sprays lash the face; 
Who've lost the lights of shoal and beach, 
And sailed where lead could never reach 
[ix] 



$ FOREWORD 

The darkened slime beneath their keel; 
Men who, at sea, were made to feel 
The joy of rough, God-fearing times; 
To them — I give my sailor rhymes. 



[x] 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES 



PICTURES 

I'm settin' by me ditty box, here on deck, 

The call for hammocks went, some time ago, 
The for'ard battle-lantern's but a speck 

That sheds a sort o' cold and ghastly glow 
Around the boys unlashin' of their rolls. 

Me old clay pipe is warm, an' glowin' red; 
It's awful dark — an' through th' swayin' port- 
holes 

I c'n see th' stars a-dancin', overhead. 

All hands is kind o' silent like, tonight, 

An' things is sort o' strained, both fore an' aft; 
For the skipper says tomorrow'll see a fight — 
That's why it's kind o' still aboard th' craft. 
Th' rookies, they've turned in, an' sleepin' sound; 
But the old timers know — an' they can't sleep; 
An', half undressed, in groups, they're standin' 
'round 
A-whisperin', an' smokin' hard t' keep 
Th' thoughts, that's bound t' come, from gettin' 
strong. 
You've got t' smoke 'em out, them thoughts 
that sneak 

[3] 



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MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



Around, for if they're shipmates very long, 
They'll scurry out your little yeller streak. 

We've doubled every "sub" watch on the ship, 
I c'n hear th' for'ard watches' steady tread, 

An' th' guard relief seems bigger, every trip — 
I s'pose I oughta swing me little bed. 

But, somewhow, I'm not carin' for th' sleep, 

I'd ruther set an' smoke, an' smoke an' think; 
If 't wa'n't so dark an' rough, I'd take a peep 

Inside me box — but I'd not sleep a wink. 
In th' mornin' I'll jest take th' pictures out 

An' stow 'em in me blouse, before th' fight. 
An' if they knock me clean out, in th' bout, 

They'll find 'em, with me number, tied up tight; 
An* they'll send 'em back to Anne, an' Sis an' 
Mother; 

Then they'll know I took 'em on as fur's I could; 
But if I get through th' fight somehow or other — 

It's th' packet on me breast that done the good. 



[4 



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THE FIRE-ROOM CREW 

They are fighters, but they're not the hero kind; 

They are just a gang of grimy sailormen. 
They're the knights of crank and lever, 
They're the stoker, and the heaver; 
In their little hell-hot, iron furnace den. 
There's no glamor of brave deeds for them, on 
deck; 
They are not the men who serve us at the guns. 
They're the tender, and the oiler; 

They're the watchman, and the toiler; 
They're the nation's grubbing, sweating, plod- 
ding ones. 
They're the sinew, and the brawn of fighting craft; 
They are everything that goes to make up men. 
But in the stoke-holes of our cruisers, 
They are generally the losers, 
When the hero stuff is dripping from the pen. 
Not a patch of daylight cheers their realm below; 

Not a ray of sunshine ever filters through; 
By the furnaces, agleam, toil these master men of 
steam 
To the music of the racing, throbbing screw. 
They are not the men to choose how they shall die; 
They're the servants of the throttle, and the 
gauge; 

[5] 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



Twenty feet below the hatches. 

They are not the kind that matches 
In a throw with death, to see who pays the wage. 
So while the guns of war are thundering fore and 
aft, 
And you're shouting praise of men who fight 
for you, 
Think of those who do their bit 

In a seething furnace pit — 
They're the heroes in the fire-room crew! 



[6] 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



THE AMBULANCE CORPS 

They rides with the commissary behind, 

And the combat-train before. 
The why-don' t-ye-join-the-army kind, 

They calls the ambulance corps. 
They're the butt o' the jokes along th' line, 

These ne'er -do-wells of war; 
Poor showin' they makes, where the reg'lars 
shine — 

But they earns the pay they draw. 
They drills with a stretcher, instead of a gun, 

And their pack's a tin canteen. 
Their duty begins when the fightin' is done — 

They're kind o' betwixt an' between 
Th' staff an' the reg'lars, as to style, 

A sort o' half-soldierin' crew — 
But they serves alike, the rank an' file, 

An' the duty they has to do, 
It's piecin' together us wounded guys — 

An' they're good enough soldiers then — 
They ain't cut out just reg'lar-wise, 

But all th' same, they're men. 
For they gives us a lift when we falls behind — 

It's hell when a soldier gets old — 
An' after the action is over, they find 

The guys out there in th' cold — 
[7] 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



An* they gives 'em a drink when their throats is 
dry 

An* they plugs 'em where they're sore, 
An' they brings 'em in, when they're left t' die — 

The boys o' the ambulance corps. 



[8] 



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THE CALL 

I'm sitting at dusk in the firelight; 

The children climb up on my knee; 

The wife bids them kiss me good night; 

All this — yet my thoughts are at sea. 

Not the uncertain sea of our dreaming; 

Not the billows of fortune or fate; 

Where the white sails of fancy are gleaming — 

Not the sea of fantastic estate; 

But the bucking old combers, foam crested, 

With a trough you'd get lost in, between; 

Where Nature nor Man ever rested, 

And you lived every day that you've seen. 

The sea that's unfathomed, mysterious; 

The sea that is awful, and real; 

Where sailing's a business so serious 

That the nearness of death you can feel. 

You see, I'm not wholly to blame 

For this feeling that's in me tonight — 

That when the two little ones came 

To kiss me — my thoughts were in flight; 

For I'm an old-timer — you've guessed it — 

An' I'm longing, so keen, to go back, 

In a jiffy, I s'pose, I'd confessed it — 

But, there I am, off on a tack. 

You see, I'm too old for a deck-hand. 

[9] 



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I'm a naval reserve, on half pay; 

But I'd sort o\ somehow, half reckoned 

I'd get to the war, some way. 

But my application's rejected; 

The papers just came back today; 

It's not quite the deal I'd expected — 

Yet I haven't a word to say. 

But you'll understand 'bout the firelight, 

And the children who wait at my knee, 

And the kisses they gave me tonight — 

How they brought back my thoughts from the 



10 



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THE CENSOR 

Whether in a nation's crisis, 
Or in life, we would surmount 
The difficulties — spare advices; 
It's the deeds, not words, that count. 

When the war clouds start to gather, 
And the talk of strife begins, 
It is not the thing we'd rather 
Do, but what we should, that wins. 

When there's trouble on the border, 
And "preparedness" fills the air, 
It is silence, law and order, 
That are wanted most down there. 

If your patriotic fervor 
Kindles fires you can't resist. 
Cease to be a calm observer 
On the side lines — and enlist. 

But don't criticise the helmsmen 
Of our gallant ship of state, 
If a storm of doubt o'erwhelms, then 
Stand by the craft — and wait. 
[11] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

If you think her course unsteady — 
Fear she'll never reach the land, 
Don't megaphone your views — get ready; 
Clear for action ! Lend a hand ! 

If your country's flag is trailing 
In an ignominious dust, 
Don't let duty find you failing, 
Die, to raise it — if you must. 

But when paths of peace you're walking, 
Keep the censorship on tight — 
For the man who does the talking 
Seldom is the man — to fight. 



[12] 



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OUR UNION 

The Stars and Stripes o'er land and sea 
Shall stand for life and liberty. 
Never shall they trail the dust; 
Never shall our sabres rust; 
Defending when and where we must, 
The ensign of our country. 

America divides the seas 
And stands between the monarchies. 
A union of the free-born states; 
A union which oppression hates; 
A land which never tolerates 
The ban of human liberties. 

Born beneath oppression's heel; 
Welded by the sabres' steel; 
Builded in the wilderness; 
Reared in want and barrenness, 
Religious toil, and social stress — 
In blood our country set its seal. 

Blessed union of the free; 
Emblem of democracy; 
Land to stir a patriot's pride; 
Land where freedom's sons abide, 
Through the blood of those who died 
For justice and humanity. 

[13] 



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THE WELCOME 

Return of the 1st Expeditionary Force, 1916 

There's a whisper on the west-wind, there's a 

murmur in the air; 
There are smiles and gentle nodding in the crowded 

thoroughfare; 
There's a fluttering of bunting, and the flags are 

flying free; 
There's a spirit of home-coming; there are signs of 

jubilee. 
There's a feast prepared for some one; there's 

a latch string out today; 
There's a hearty western welcome — in a simple 

western way; 
There's the feeling of good fellows, when they 

gather round the board; 
There's a speech of mellow friendship, stronger 

than the spoken word. 
Familiar faces, tanned and ruddy 'neath the 

tilted brims appear; 
Familiar figures, khaki clad, are greeting old ac- 
quaintance here — 
Thread their way, content, among us; stop, to 

grasp a friendly hand; 
Familiar voices mingle freely in the tongue of their 

own land, 

[14] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

For a dust brown van has halted, rank and file, 
within our gates; 

They are standing at our hearth-stone for the wel- 
come that awaits. 

Let the spirit of our city, from the rock-ribbed 
Franklin's dome 

To the shining Rio Grande, welcome Pershing's 
army home! 



[15] 



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THE ENGINEERS 

There's some as likes th' infantry, 

An' roasts their bloomin' feet — 
There's some prefers th' cavalry, 

An' sets th' darby seat; 
There's some as hits th' limber train, 

T' fight behind th' line; 
But, friend, when I sign up again, 

— Th' Engineers f er mine ! 

Th' doughboys drills th' best, I 'low, 

An' fights like they's in hell; 
Th' mounts is best when there's a row 

Where hikin's not so swell; 
Artillerymen don't never fail 

T' cover from th' rears — 
But fer a gang t' blaze th' trail, 

Give me th' Engineers! 



[16 



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"SIGNAL BILL" 

'T was what ye'd call a nasty night, 
An' 'twa'n't no time to pick a fight, 

Th' night we struck th' zone. 
Th' fog wuz settlin' purty thick — 
Screws 'u'd race, an' buck, an' kick, 

An' stays 'u'd creak an' groan. 

A crew at every three-inch gun, 
An' all han's keyed up fer th' run — 

Wuz how we cruised that night. 
I tuk th' wheel — I'd never had 
A taste o' war — wuz jest a lad — 

But I had shipped t' fight. 

An' soon oP quartermaster Bill 

An' me made friends, as seamen will, 

Without much else t' do, 
An' Bill wuz on th' bridge that night, 
T' kinda see that things went right, 

An' sort o' visit, too. 

Sez Bill: "Ye know it ain't a fight 
That's gettin' on me nerves tonight, 

But I guess ye'll agree 
That I have kinda wronged me kid, 
Fer when th' mother died, I did 

Th' getaway t' sea." 

[17] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

"An' I h'ain't never heard," sez Bill, — 
"An* reckon now I never will — 

As how th' brat come through, 
Fer I've a feelin', lad, tonight, 
An' ef I'm calculatin' right, 

I want t' ask ef you 

Will be a father — ef — "sez he, 

"Ef — what I'm thinkin' of, should be — 

To that-there kid o' mine." 
I promised Bill I'd do my best, 
Then eased a point, Sou-west b' West, 

T' fetch 'er in ter line, 

When, "GOD!" Sez Bill; "LOOK! Port 'er 

quick!" 
An' pointed where th' fog hung thick 

Jest off th' sta^jb'rd bow. 
'Bout then th' lookout yelled; an' aft 
"All Hands" wuz sounded through th' craft; 

An' then, someway — somehow 

We lifted like a surf -borne skiff; 

Then hung an' trembled; straightened stiff; 

An' settled by th' stern. 
I struck th' binnacle an' hung 
Until a list t' starb'rd flung 

Me with an awful turn, 

[18] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

An' I brought up ferninst a hatch — 
'N' through th' fog I leaped, t' catch 

A piece o' deck-house frame. 
I heard Bill yell, an' like a streak 
Seen 'im shoot by — an' then th' creak 

O' life-boat tackle came. 

Th' Cap'n's voice by megaphone; 
Th' siren's blasts; a shriek — a groan; 

Th' hiss o' boiler steam; 
Th' crash o' superstructure gear; 
Th' gurgle o' th' water — near — 

An' then, I 'spect, a dream — 

Fer I don't recollect th' rest, 
Till, half awake, across th' breast 

O' "Signal Bill" I rolled. 
— An' there, aboard a life-raft, sprawled 
Two men — like they'd washed up — er crawled 

An' one wuz stark an' cold. 



[19] 



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ALOHA 

Honolulu, fairest gem in your ocean diadem, 

To your island pearls, you bring the brightest 
lustre of the string. 

Resting place amid the sea, like a wayside hos- 
telry, 

Where we linger in content, to and from the 
Orient. 

How we love your glistening sands, and the semi- 
tropic strands 

Of your palm-spread Waikiki, there to bask, be- 
side the sea; 

Love your reef-bound, restless bay, where the 
angry channePspray, 

Breaking on a shoal met tide, dashes on the liner's 
side; 

Love to watch the shining skins of your agile dock 
urchins, 

Seeking, in your crystal bay, coins the tourists 
cast away; 

Love your wonderland, and more — love its 
customs, and its lore — 

Its traditions, too, but — Ah! How we love your 
word Aloha! 

Aloha! How its charms enthrall! Soft and luring, 
like a call 

[20 1 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

To a new Utopia. Never greeting like Aloha 

Met the traveller before ! Taking leave of foreign 
shore, 

Alien heart could never yearn, gentler bidding to 
return. 

How the native tongues give full measure to each 
syllable; 

Monotones, the sweetest yet, falling from the 
alphabet; 

Never land adopted speech that could harmon- 
ize with each 

Chord of sympathy, and, through salutation or 
adieu, 

Like Aloha, tenderly speak to us across the sea. 



[21] 



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THE REFUGEE 

A weary traveller stopped to pass the time, 
A pilgrim, bent and old and sad and worn. 
His haggard face besmeared with smoke and 

grime, 
His shabby cloak was crimson stained and torn. 

His eyes were wild and restless, as a dove 
Pressed before the hunter's eager chase. 
Gone was all the light of human love — 
Grim and terror stricken, was his face. 

And when I asked him whither journeyed he, 
How far away the tavern that he sought, 
He raised his frightened eyes and looked at me — 
Bowed his head again, and answered not. 

Then he wept the bitter tears of harried souls — 
Till I thought the flood of anguish ne'er would 

cease. 
"O'er the world a wave of conflict rolls," 
He cried, "and I must flee, for I am PEACE." 



[22] 



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LET THE SEA GIVE ANSWER! 

O sea, whose laughing waves, with lips afoam, 
Content, have tossed the dark aeons through; 

You whom every race has called its home, 
Speak, and tell us what it means to you: 

The smoke screens, which your fair vistas blot; 

The death engines which plough your emerald 
deep, 
And in your leagues of utter darkness plot 

The lives of innocents while they sleep? 

Your waves which used to sport themselves in 
play 
Are torn by screaming shells and stained with 
blood. 
Your tides like funeral coteries bear away 
And cast ashore your slain with every flood. 

The tortured skies above you look aghast 

Upon your bosom, torn by war and strewn with 
dead. 

At the struggling on your wreckage, and the vast 
Uncounted treasure sinking to your bed. 

[23] 



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Can you forget these scenes, and once again 
Will your splendid billows laughingly 

Kiss the bows of peaceful merchantmen? 
With their flags of commerce flying free 

Will they return to ply the paths of trade? 

Can you lure again the happy traveller, 
And will he seek your beauties unafraid, 

Or shrink, as one within a giant sepulchre? 



[24] 



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A PRAYER 

Forgive the crimes, O Lord, by madmen's hands — 
Forgive the carnage wrought in many lands — 
Where up to Thee their battle smokes have 

curled — 
And pity, we beseech Thee, a war-torn world. 
Stay, O Lord, the reaper's crimson yield — 
Forgive, if in the hearts of those who wield 
The blades of war, are thoughts of greed and 

power — 
Put forth Thy hand and rule an epic hour! 

In camp and trench, in air and on the sea, 
We commend our armies, Lord, to Thee. 
Watch over our beloved and distant ones — 
Spare them from the harvest of the guns. 
Calm, O Lord, the wrath of storm-wracked seas — 
Rid Thy splendid oceans of the treacheries 
Of war — and, till Thy waves shall laugh again, 
Protect, O God, from harm, our sailormen. 



[25] 



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A GALLEY YARN 

Oleson was our Bo's'n's mate, an* a better mate 

than he, 
Nor a stubborner cuss, as I cal'late, has never put 

to sea. 

He hailed from the shores o' Skagerack — some 

say 'twas the ice an' snow 
That froze his heart an' warped his back, up there, 

long ago. 

Ole was seasoned, from peak t' keel, an' strong as 

a tops'l yard. 
Of sentiment, though, he lacked a good deal — 

for his heart and his head was hard. 

His home used t' be on every sea, his mates of 
every skin; 

He'd sailed with the Jap an' yaller Chinee, Scan- 
dinavian, an' Finn. 

But one kind o' mate, did the bo's'n hate, — as 

near as I can figger — 
An' t' hear him relate, his one curse o' fate, was 

sailin' with a nigger. 
[26] 



$J MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

Now we had a cook, who couldn't look at the mate 

without it riled him, 
An' it seemed that cook, the more we took his 

part, the more it spiled him; 

For of all the brew that ever a crew was asked to 

put inside 'em, 
I'll tell you 'twas the greasy stew that nigger set 

beside 'em. 

One day there hit that cook a fit of temper, an' 

the cussin' 
In the galley brought to it the mate, who heard 

the fussin' — 

The nigger heard the bo's'n's word, an' told him 

not to meddle. 
Then in a jiff we saw him biff the bo's'n with a 

leddle. 

The mate he knew where the wooly grew, an' 

fastened his fingers in it; 
That nigger yelled, but Oleson held on tighter 

every minute. 

The lid was off a kittle of broth, an' they spilt 

nigh half, I reck; 
It doused the cook an' the bo's'n both, as they 

rolls on the galley deck. 

[27] 



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Now Ole knew they'd spilt the brew, an quicker 'n 

I have said it, 
Right through an' through that congealed stew, 

he souses the cook that made it. 

'Twas plain to see, that Sambo Lee was thinkin' 

of other regions 
That 'ud better be, for such as he, an' them — 

without Norwegians. 

So down on his knees in the puddle o' grease he 

drops an' begins t' holler; 
But the mate didn't ease, an' I saw him seize that 

nigger by the collar. 

Now the rest o' the stew was near by, too, an' the 

stuff was cold an' clammy; 
So he ups the tureen an' lets it dreen, on what was 

left of Sammy. 

Then he grabs that cook right by the neck an* 

swings him 'round the galley 
An' to show his respec', he wallops the deck, an' 

throws him into th' alley. 

Wal, cooks there's be'n, an' cooks there'll be, but 

I reckon, black or white, 
A 'umbler one ye'll never see than cooked for us 

that night. 

[281 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

An' from that day, too, if the grub we drew wa'n't 

quite th' right complexion, 
We'd happen to say, up Sambo's way — "The 

bos'n's on inspection." 



29 



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A SENTRY'S SOLILOQUY 
BORDER PATROL 

From my lonely post I gaze through the distant, 
purple haze, 
Where the rockies bare their peaks before the 
West; 
Sometimes out across the mesa, stretching East, 
my eyes will wander, 
And there comes to me a strange and sad unrest. 
For, beyond the arid reaches of those million-acred 
plains, 
Lies the land my heart is yearning for again; 
Lies the homeland, bright and cheery, far away 
across the dreary 
Desert lands — and the yearning brings me pain. 
Out here the hearts are true, and the skies are 
bluest blue, 
And the welcome of the West is in the air. 
Here, the spirit of the wild roams as free as laugh- 
ing child, 
And the men are not afraid to do and dare. 
Here, the twilight may be longer, and the friend- 
ships may be stronger, 
But no grandeur underneath the Western skies 
Can stay the tears, or stop the aching, when a 
lonely heart is breaking — 
No handclasp can sever the old home ties. 
[30] 



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Though the alien hills unfold the sweetest secrets 
they may hold; 
No fields Elysian on the face of God's green 
earth; 
No lure of rancho, camp or grange, no wild free- 
dom of the range, 
Can ever wean us from the land which gave us 
birth. 

I am dying for the sighing of the pines on home- 
land hills; 
For the fragrance of the balsam and the fir. 
Just to walk knee-deep in clover; just to go back 
and live over 
Once again, the happy summer days that were. 
Just to seek some ferny glen; flush the drumming 
grouse, again; 
Wade the trout stream where the speckled 
beauties leap; 
Just to hear the spinning reel; 'round the mossy 
banks to steal; 
And lure the wily pickerel from the weedy deep; 
Just to paddle up the river, at the twilight hour 
again, 
When the woodland world is listening, and still; 
Just to hear the frogs in chorus pipe their glad- 
some evening song; 
And calling home its wandering mate, the 
whip-poor-will. 

[311 



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THE STRETCHER-BEARERS 

When the stress of battle is ended, 
And the merciful shades of night, 
Like an artist's brush have blended 
The horrors of war from sight; 

When the tortured skies are clearing 
The mists of their leaden rain, 
And the blood-red stars are leering 
Through at a field of slain; 

When the blasphemed air is bearing 
The stench of fresh shed blood, 
And the dead lie stark, and staring 
Up from the steaming mud; 

Ah, that is a glorious hour, 
For a corps of unenvied men, 
Who never shrink or cower, 
Are doing their duty then. 

Out there in the solemn night, 
Alone, with the dying and dead — 
Swiftly, after the fight 
The stretcher-bearers tread. 

[32] 



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THE DIFFERENCE 

When a fellow's up against it, 

And he hasn't got a cent, 
And his shabby clothes belie him 

For a high-toned gent; 
Then his friends will, ordinary, 

Hand him out the stony stare; 
For the hard-luck down-and-outer 

Isn't wanted anywhere. 

But I've been thinkin' of the difference 

In the way they treat a guy 
When he's all got up in khaki, 

And he's ready for to die. 
When the bugles start to blowin', 

Then life don't seem quite so raw; 
For a hobo is a hero, 

When he's leavin' for the war. 



[33] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



THE ARMY MULE 

I've rode Kentucky thoroughbreds, 

An' Derbyshire mounts. 
I've jockeyed for the royal heads, 

An' raced for dukes an' counts. 
I've broncho busted on the plain — 

Know every trick an' rule 
Of every beast that draws a rein — 
— Except the Army mule. 

It's my delight to rope a steer, 

I've broken colts galore, 
I've seen the wild herds buck an' rear, 

A thousand head or more. 
In fancy horseflesh I've a pride, 

But where I play the fool 
Is in the barrick-yard astride 

That on'ry Army mule. 



[34 



$ MAN-CT-WAR RHYMES $ 



THE CAVALRY 

It's up with the leather, 

We're riding together. 
It's blow Boots an' Saddles. 
Ho! Ho! Boots an' Saddles! 

In foul or fair weather 

The troop is afield. 

It's stirrup an' straddle, 

The pack strap an' saddle, 
With mounts neck an' neck, Oh! 
The hoofs, how they echo! 

It's up an' skeedaddle, 

The troop is afield. 

O life in the service! 

The praise you deserve is 
In cavalry troopin' 
The dashin' — the whoopin' — 

The cavalryman's nerve is 

The keenest, afield. 

Boots 'n' Saddles, they say, 

Is the gent that '11 pay 
All your chits an' your debts — 
All your wagers an' bets — 

So it's up an' away! 

The troop is afield. 

[35] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



THE NATIONAL ARMY 

When the Top-Sergeant's grouchy an' outs with a 

curse 
At the mud on your leggins; or, what's even worse, 
One shoe is your bunkie's an' one of 'em ain't — 
Don't fall down in ranks, for a soldier don't faint, 
Jest come to attention, with eyes to the front; 
Your legs '11 support you — you may think they 

won't — 
It's ninety more days that they'll wallup you 

through, 
Buck up, for they're makin' a reg'lar of you. 

When the Corp'ral has drilled you until your poor 

spine 
Is limp as a gun rag, don't whimper or whine; 
Jest hitch up your belt for supportin' your chest, 
An' "Shoulder!" an' "Carry!" V "Present!" 

with the rest. 
When the chow is all bad, from the prunes to the 

spud, 
The soup is like water — the coffee like mud; 
You're gettin' your pay — an' experience, too, 
They're makin' a regular reg'lar of you! 



[36] 



$ 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



THE SEA 



There's a space as high as Heaven; there's a place 

as deep as hell; 
There's a chunk of shining blue that lies between; 
There's an endless, treadless way where men meet 

and pass, unknown — 
It's the nearest place to God you've ever seen. 

Stretching out between horizons, with a starlit 

dome above, 
There's a deep, dark, treacherous waste that lies 

below; 
It is neither earth nor sky, and we know not 

whence nor why — 
But it's there — and fitly, God has willed it so. 

It's the boundless, untamed sea, flowing down 

from pole to pole; 
It's a wilderness that thrills you through and 

through; 
Where hordes of nature's hidden forces thunder 

'round your puny soul; 
It's a trail that cuts the universe in two. 

It is propping up the heavens, lest the constella- 
tions fall; 

It is straining at the shores of East and West; 

It is tempering the climes, from the glistening 
polar rimes 

To the burning tropic trades that never rest. 

[37 1 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

There are men who love it better than the best 

land in creation — 
And for aught that we can say, it's just as old. 
It has lured men on for ages, tender youth and 

wisest sages, 
As the North has lured men on to grub for gold. 

Bitter, cold, and unresponsive as a stark dead 

thing of hope, 
More relentless than the ghosts of want and woe; 
It has seen men bow before it; writhe and curse, 

despair and die — 
To be cast into utter depths below. 

Yet men have frozen, starved and plundered for 
the life they wouldn't trade; 

In silence suffered all the torments of the deep : 

Seen their fevered bones decay; picked the scur- 
vied flesh away; 

Faced their God — and prayed the night would 
bring them sleep. 

They, the men who've seen the worst; be it fam- 
ine, plague, or thirst; 

They that harken to the wild — would have it so. 

It's the life! The lure! The goal! The wander- 
lust that grips the soul — 

And when they hear the sea a-calling, — they 
must go ! 

[38] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



THE VERDICT 

"I'm waitin' for trial tomorrow; 

Drunk when on duty's the charge, 
An' I'm locked in this 'castle' o' sorrow 

— Not even a prisoner at large. 

It's a * General,' an' all that goes with it — 
Gold lace, an' side-arms, an' such; 

If it wa'n't for the rank an' the pith it 
Means, I wouldn't mind it so much. 

I'm guilty as hell, an' they know it, 
'T ain't much use t' make a defence. 

They'll think it's a bluff, but I'll throw it, 

— I know it's my second offence. 
But it wasn't my watch, t' begin with, 

I was only the mornin' relief; 
Came aboard with the bunch I had been with, 

At midnight — an' then came to grief. 
Was ordered on anchor watch duty 

T* relieve a poor guy who was sick. 
Jag? Yes, I had a beauty, 

But I stood up as straight as a stick, 
Saluted, an' started up for'ard, 

When the stuff sort o' went to my head, 
An' I pitched in the scuppers, t' starb'ard, 

So drunk that they thought I was dead. 
I'm a long timer, too, in this outfit, 

Four years — an old salt, you will say; 

F39 1 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

Jest a month more to do, an' then I'd quit 

With a snug little pile laid away. 
Came in on that wave o' preparedness, 

Thought I would jest take a look 
At the world, an' then somehow a madness 

Jest swept me along like a brook. 
A madness for life an' adventure — 

For a fling on the great open sea, 
Where you're free from the world's petty cen- 
sure, 

An' can work out your own destiny. 
Where you buck against lives in the makin', 

Where men are hewed out o' the rough 
An' the timber is strained to the breakin' 

— An' will break (or it's damned good stuff). 
Where the bigness o' the universe awes you, 

Till you feel like a helpless child; 
(Yet the thought of returnin' abhors you), 

An' your soul is lost in the wild. 

God! how I loathed to abide it! 

How I've cursed the first day that I came! 
I've scoffed at the men who must ride it, 

But I love the old sea just the same — 
From the great purple rim that surrounds it 

To the rainbow hues of the dome. 
The mysterious life that abounds it; 

It's wild, I know, but it's home! 

1 know I've been sort of a rounder, 
With cards, an* women, an' booze, 

[40 1 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES jj 

But I've known a philosophy sounder : 

I know what it means to lose 
The things that will satisfy cravin', 

When the heart is a-hunger inside; 
The things that keep a man slavin', 

And shore up his totterin' pride; 
That will lift him up out o' the mire 

An' give him the guts to fight, 
An' set his ambitions afire, — 

The things that will keep a man right: 
A home, with the firelight glowin', 

A welcome that comes from the heart; 
Some one to care where you're goin', 

An' bid you Godspeed when you start. 
Good will, that you don't have to borrow, 

Friends, that you can't buy or sell. 
I must write to the old folks tomorrow, 

— An' maybe, a word — to Nell. 
The court! I forgot! an' me schemin' 

How soon I'd be quittin' this pack; 
But a year as a striper! I'm dreamin'! 

— I'd be too damned low to go back. 
I s'pose it's a year at hard labor, 

I guess it's the lock-step for mine, 
Or a cell, with a guard for a neighbor, 

Or, maybe, it's both — with a fine. 
I'm feelin' as weak as a kitten; 

Three days bread an' water, I reck'. 
Well, they don't make a guy very fittin' : 

— I'll jest lay down on the deck. 

[41] 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES 



"'Acquittal,' you say I am ratin'? 

— Oh, that's a mistake, I expect; 

— ' Circumstances were extenuatin' ? ' 
"Well, somethin' to that effect." 

"Wonder if Nell is still carin' . . . 

— What would the old folks have said? , 

— I'll go back to 'em now — God sparin', 
An' live like a man — till I'm dead. " . 



42 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



THE FLARE-BACK 

So they won't ship me over today, eh? 

Too old, did ye say, an' too lame? 
It's a hard knock, Cap'n, t' go 'way 

An' know ye're clean out o' th' game. 
That scar? Aye, Sir, it's a bad un; 

Kind o' cripples th' leg some, I know. 
Duty? Aye, Sir, 'twas a mad gun, 

Back in 'ninety. Wal, Cap'n, I'll go. 

The story? Wal, now, Sir, ye're kind. 

Set here, ye say? Thank ye, I will. 
Seems good t' us old uns ter find 

A "striper" who's kind t'us still. 
Wal, Sir, you'll remember, I reckon, 

When th' Ranger put in with her dead, 
Night after her quarter-deck gun, 

(Twelve-inch) run amuck in th' head. 

You don't? Wal, Sir, may God spare you 

Sich a sight as I saw there that day, 
And th' hell that I lived through there, too, 

That night in Pensacola Bay. 
The Ranger wuz out fer a record 

At target manoeuvres that spring. 
She wuz hittin', Sir, too, an' I 'spect 'u'd 

'A' won it clean — but fer one thing. 

[43 1 



$ 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



Our pride wuz th' quarter-deck turret; 

I wuz pointin' fer gun number four. 
"Black Baby," we called her, an', Sir, it 

Seemed like she knew it — an' more. 
Wal, 't was long about dusk uv a Friday, 

We'd only a run more t' go. 
An', Sir, I've seen gun crews in my day; 

I've seen 'em that's fast, an' that's slow. 

But, Gad! Sir, them lads wuz a-heavin' 

Five hundred pound shell t' th' breech, 
S' fast that th' lock wuz nigh seethin' 

— An', Gad! How th' Baby 'u'd screech! 
Wal, we steamed on th' range f 'r th' last run, 

S'dark I c'u'd skeerce see th' raft. 
"More speed on th' starb'd aft gun," 
Wuz th' word that th' Cap'n sent aft. 

An', my God! not a man there c'u'd answer, 

(Ye'll 'scuse my expressin' things so) 
But th' crew wuz struck dumb to a man, Sir, 

'S if death sent the message below. 
The place wuz s' plumb-full o' silence 

Ye c'u'd cut the air, Sir, with a knife, 
An' somethin' gripped us like a sentence, 

When th' Judge is condemnin' a life. 

Wal, they loaded, then gazed at each other, 

An' stood there, froze stark to th' gun; 
Er fingered their throats like they'd smother, 

— Then th' siren blew twice fer th' run, 

[44] 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES J 



An' th' bugle blast sounded fer firm.' 
Wal, that crew, Sir, wuz off like a shot; 

Black as a stoker, perspirin', 

Rammin' her home when she's hot, 

Receivin', an' shovin', an' primin', 

(Stripped t' th' waist they wuz, stark.) 
Lockin' th' breech, an' no timin', 

"Steady, now," "Ready," an' "Mark." 
We'd found th' spot, too, Sir, wuz makin' 

A string that 'ud do th' craft proud. 
Faster, th' breech-lock wuz breakin' 

An' closin' — no heed o' th' cloud 

O' th' blasphemous stuff from th' muzzle, 

Chokin', but shovin' her down, 
Makin' th' "Black Baby" guzzle 

Th' lead, an' th' smokeless "brown." 
God knows, Sir, how long we wuz steamin', 

But we'd made nigh a half o' th' run, 
When o' sudden, I thought I wuz dreamin', 

An' sailin' straight inter th' sun. 

A million stars seemed t' be flashin', 
An' then: O my God, what a roar! 

Like shriekin' worlds fallin' an' crashin' 
— Then I didn't know nuthin' more 

Till a lantern gleam 'woke me, an' turnin — 
(It couldn't be worse, Sir, in hell) 
[45 1 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

There, a mass o' charred flesh, an' still burnm', 
Wuz our crew, in a heap, where they fell. 

Ye can talk o' the sights in the trenches, 

But th' hauntin' o' dead in that hole, 
The shrieks o' the dyin'; the stenches; 

They stab, Sir, ter yer very soul. 
Stripped, like a derelict hulk; dead, 

Th' Lieutenant lay, shy o' both legs, 
I wuz jammed agin th' after bulkhead, 

With th' rammer shaft piled on my pegs. 

Kind o' felt so, at first, they wuz missin', 

But a couple there looked like my own, 
In th' rags, though, I saw some thin' glisten, 

— 'Twas a part o' my own shin bone. 
Wal, that's 'bout th' heft o' th' tale, Sir, 

'Cept I'm all that was left o' th' crew. 
Gad ! But you look a bit pale, Sir, 

Don't mind what I've said — an' I'm through. 

Ye're better now, Sir, I'll be goin'; 

I'll git along somehow, I 'spect. 
A waiver, ye say? that's a-showin' — 

What! fer me, Sir, my age an' defect? 
Ye'll 'scuse me 'f I seem a bit soft, Sir; 

I'll jes' wipe these old eyes s' I can 
See your face: Oh, I know ye're an off'cer, 

But, By God! Sir, ye're more — ye're a man! 

[46] 



$ MAN-O-WAR RHYMES $ 



THE OLD GUN DECK 

Remember, boys, the old gun deck 
And the good times we had there? 
The hammocks swinging neck and neck, 
The mischief in the air 
When "taps" had gone, and silently 
We tucked in snug and warm, 
Till "jimmy-legs" sneaked up to see 
Each hammock's rounded form. 
When all was still and lights were out 
And "jimmy-legs" had gone, 
Remember how we'd prance about 
And talk till nearly dawn? 
How we raved and vowed and swore 
We'd never ship again, 
And how we longed to go ashore 
And live like other men. 
And when a draft of rookies came, 
Right off the farm "By Heck," 
Remember we upheld the name 
Of that old gun deck? 
We lashed their hammocks, bow and stern, 
We shifted billets, too. 
We gave them every chance to learn 
What sailors ought to do. 
T 47 1 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES j| 

Remember how, at reveille, 

We'd try to steal a nap? 

Till Hanz, the bos'n's mate, would see, 

And rouse us with a slap, 

Then the old "square-head" would yell: 

"Uup you, now, all han's," 

And from the galley 'd come the smell 

Of bacon in the pans. 

And when the mess was spread again, 

And cleaned up, every speck, 

The smoking lamp was lit, and then 

We'd scrub the old gun deck. 

You recollect, that day in port, 

The old deck shone like glass, 

When every jack was paying court, 

And dancing with his lass? 

And how the old piano sang, 

And how each roguish glance 

And gentle touch, and voice that rang, 

Would thrill us in the dance? 

And, boys, that night when all was still, 

(You won't dispute, I reck,) 

The little god that shoots to kill, 

Shot up that whole gun deck. 

Oh, how we loathed the old routine, 
And how we cursed it, then; 
But, boys, each day of service seen 
Has made us better men. 

[48 1 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

The days we longed for then, are here, 

Those days we thought so free, 

Each dream of things we held so dear, 

Is now reality. 

No "jimmy-legs" to rouse us, now, 

No reveille at dawn, 

No messmates' ringing laughter — how 

We miss them, now they're gone — 

Ah! Boys, what treasured friendships then, 

How sweet if we could beck 

The past, and find our berths again, 

On the old gun deck. 



|49 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



THE BOAT RACE 

D'ye hear that, Bill? She's called away! 
Do we guys work on racin' day? 
Well, say! Y' know yer Uncle Ben, 
He ain't the kind what's workin' when 
The candy crew o' this whole fleet 
Is out in racin' trim t' beat 
The "Pensy's" high-falut'n crew, 
Champeens of Division Two. 

Come on, Bill, now chuck the grind. 
Shine that bright work in y' mind, 
Er pass th' word t' that marine, 
Let him squeegee decks an' clean. 
Tell 'im th' bo's'n left th' word 
T' scrub the foc's'le, you heard. 
Come on, Bill, up with th' bunch, 
Y' know I've kinda got a hunch 
Our boys'll win that race today, 
And I 've got coin what talks that way. 

Say, Bill, I've seen that gang a-rowin'. 
Course that's th' only way o' knowin' 
The stuff that's in a race boat's crew, 
An', say, I'm here t' break t' you 
The news, that them Division kids 
Can't git a race boat off th' skids, 

[50] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

Side o' our crew, 'n' here's the green 

What says we'll swipe the "Pensy" clean. 

Here they come ! Jest pipe th' way 

Our lads are showin' up today. 

See "Skinny" Hazeltine, an' "Hank," 

An' "Bunny" Olcott, Bill, he drank 

Enough las' night ter finish him, 

But "Bunny" 's right in racin' trim. 

See "Fatty" Brown, an' there is "Hoke," 

He looks like he could pull a stroke. 

An' little Tim, the coxs'n, he 

C'n steer any thin' 'at goes t' sea. 

If any man in this outfit 

C'n keep a racin' course — he's it. 

The for'ard turret, that's th' place 

T' see the start o' this big race, 

An' mebbe we can land a bet 

Or two, on this performance, yet. 

There's th' stake boats cruisin' round, 

Th' judges' launch is on th' ground. 

An' — yes, there comes th' lubbers now! 

Look! th' way they pull that scow, 

Ketchin' crabs with every stroke, 

*N' their backs Y bent like they was broke. 

Hey! You lad! I've got a ten 

T' stake on old Kentucky's men! 

• Make it twenty? ' 't's a go! 

Anythin' t' please, y' know! 

[51] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

More? Why sure, just send 'em round 
Ter th' same old campin' ground, 
Me an' Bill has got th' wealth! 

— You must be bettin' for your health, 
That tub o' yours could never win, 
This here sea's a bit too thin 

Fer them lads t' be rowin' in. 
Th' place fer them guys t' begin 
An' end their racin' days in boats, 

— Er any other craft that floats, 

Is scullin' 'round, until they're faint, 
In catamarans, t' scrub an' paint 
Th' side, an' not be posin' for 
A racin' crew, o' man o' war. 



Say, Bill, they're off right now! an' gee! 
Them candy kids has took th' lee, 
Jest like Tim Hanan said they'd do. 
Aw! Set down, we can't see through 
You lads. Say, Bill, lend me ten? 
Them guys is flashin' coin again. 
Gainin'? Sure, they're walkin' now 
Abaft the lumberin' lubbers' bow. 

"Ten on 'Pensy'!" "Taken here!!" 
" Shove off there, make that coin appear. 
"Ra! Ra! — Ra! Ra! Ken-tuck-y!" 
We're half a length ahead, Bill, see ! 

[52] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

"Hey! There 'Pensy!' Get a net 
Y' might ketch 'em faster yet!" 
"Aw, go tell it th' marines! 
Money talks — Jest flash th' greens!" 

Yankee — doodle — keep it up ! ' " 
"Hi! Hi! 'Pensy'— Navy yup!" 
"Ahoy! Kentucky, dingey there! 
Y' ain't got a mile t' spare! 
Throw that stroke oar overboard! 
Listen t' th' coxs'n's word! 
Together — now — one — two ! " 
"Pipe down! You, lad, they'll come through!" 
"Hi!Yi! — Hi! Yi! — Yi! Yi! — Yi! Yi!" 
"'Pensy!' 'Pensy!' 'Pensy!' Try!" 

Aw, Bill! Them bums are comin' up, 

They're comin' like a frighted pup — 

"Pull, you spalpeens! Pull, I say! 

Th' stake 's a hundred yards away." 

They're round th' buoy — a length behind! 

Aw, Bill! Them scrubs are losin' — mind? 

"'Pensy!' 'Pensy!' 'Pensy!' Hi! 

We'll put old Kentucky by. 

' Take — me — back — to old — Kentucky ! '" 

Gee ! Bill, them hounds are lucky ! 

"Pull Kentucky! On th' run!" 

"Aw! Shoot 'em from a twelve inch gun, 

They can't pull a rowin' race." 

"Hey, you, lad, right here's th' place 

[53] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

Fer any coin what's gettin' cold, 
'Pensy' '11 cover all y' hold." 
"Ketch 'em with a boat hook there!" 
"See 'em gaspin' now fer air!" 

Aw, Bill, you lubber, can't yer yell? 
"KENTUCKY! Pull there! Pull like — well," 
Bill, — Aw, what's the use ! But, say, 
We'll go ashore next racing day. 



54 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



THE DESERTER 

From the Arctic floes, to the Antipodal snows, the 

men who follow the sea 
Strange secrets hold, strange tales have told, but 

the strangest was told to me 
By a sailor who lay, as I passed one day through 

the wards of St. Helene, 
On his cot of white, and a sadder sight than he, 

I've never seen. 

His gray locks lay on a brow of clay, and his dim 

eyes were sunken in. 
He was an aged man — an American, far from 

home and kin. 
On a broken chair near by, there lay his tobacco 

and pipes. 
And draped on the bed, just over his head, was 

a flag of the Stars and Stripes. 

The Sister said, as we neared his bed : " I know he 

will welcome you so, 
For he raves at night, and sees in his fright, the 

scenes of long ago." 
Then his eyes grew bright, and he sat upright, but 

his gaze seemed far away. 
And he bowed his head at some things he said as 

he told his story that day. 
[55] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

"You'll think it queer, that I should here unfold 

this tale," he said, 
"It's a story of pride — and a man who died" — 

then he touched the flag o'er his head. 
"A Man O' War lay, in Frisco bay, and I was one 

of her crew. 
The red blood of youth coursed my veins, and, 

forsooth, the red liquor ran there, too. 

"I drifted one night, where the lights were bright, 
and the harlots played their game. 

I was drunk as hell, and I couldn't tell a blush of 
rouge from shame. 

And the lines of sin might well have been the 
furrows wrought by care; 

For in passion's light, at the dead of night, the 
jade looked passing fair. 

"She pleaded with me to set her free from the 

bondage of men and sin; 
To lift her above a hireling's love, and the mire 

she'd sunken in. 
And the bold pretext of the woman got next to 

my whisky sodden heart, 
And the story she told took a terrible hold, — and 

I believed — at least in part. 

"So I answered her, yes, and married — I guess, 
(God knows by what code, law or rule) 

And the very next day, I took her away, and de- 
serted my ship — like a fool. 

[56] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

On the Chilian coast, we made the most of a 

gold grubber's simple fare, 
And I shared my life with this kind of wife in a 

shack we builded there. 



"The old life had grown stale,and I quit the bright 

trail, when this woman came into my life. 
And, by Heaven, I swear, I gave her the care and 

devotion of any wife. 
And so grateful she seemed, and her eyes so 

gleamed with something more than desire, 
That I thought the whole of a woman's soul 

had consumed the carnal fire. 

"Then we quarreled one night, when the lantern 

light in the shack was burning low. 
She was tired of life, she said, as a wife, and I 

guess what she said was so. 
I knew, for a spell, she'd been false as hell, and I 

I took her to task for her deeds; 
Then she raved 'round the shack, and swore she'd 

go back where men didn't question her 

creeds. 



"So I spoke of the gold we'd hoarded, and told the 

woman, as partners, we 
Would play the game fair, and the stuff we'd 

share, ere we parted company. 

[57] 



jj MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

Then I saw her go, so silent and slow, to the room 

we'd called our own, 
And the air grew chill, and 'twas deathly still and 

I shivered, and waited, alone. 



"The shadows hung low, and the lantern's glow 

looked down with a ghastly grin, 
While round the shack, through window and crack 

the cold was creeping in. 
Then a rustle I heard, and with never a word she 

came through the shadowy gloom, 
And I saw she was dressed in her tawdry best, and 

groomed, as women groom. 

"Her manner was bold, and I thought of the gold, 

so I stepped between her and the door. 
Then a sting in my back — the room grew black — 

and I don't remember more 
Till they found me next day, in the blood where I 

lay, and brought me to St. Helene. 
The woman, she must have piked out with the 

dust, for neither has since been seen. " 



Then he turned and laid bare his back, and there 

across the shrunken spine, 
Was an ugly scar that reached so far as a sabre 

might design. 

[58] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

Then he lifted high each withered thigh, and 

dropped it helplessly. 
And he turned his head, as he tearfully said: 

"They're dead as hell, you see." 



— Have you felt the spell of the silence that fell 

on a tempest threatened sea 
Like the hush of death, ere the icy breath of the 

storm had broken free? 
Have you known a fear that seemed to sear, till it 

laid your whole soul bare, 
And gripped in a spell that seemed to foretell of 

impending dangers there? 

Then you understand how a silence can brand, and 

how it got me, that day, 
And palled me with dread, like a place of the dead, 

ere the old man turned to say: 
"It's not the sin sodden, nightly trodden path 

I've stumbled in, 
Nor the hellish grave my youth I gave, in the 

slimy slough of sin. 



"It's not the shame of the harlot's game, nor the 

years that iniquity cost, 
That brings the sadness and blinding madness, for 

I staked — and played — and lost. 

[59 1 



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MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES J 



Those scores are all paid — for the woman has 
laid me away in the flesh here to rot, 

And left of a man, what a living death can, and I 
know I deserve what I got. 

"What's burning my soul, like a fiery coal, and 

making the past such a hurt, 
Is to die face to face with the damning disgrace of 

a soldier who'd go and desert." 
From a coverlet fold, a sack of gold then, he drew, 

and held to me; 
"A little gift from the miner's shift" he said, "and 

the company. 

"Will you take it, please, across the seas, before 

it — is — too late? 
And buy the discharge — of Peter Conarge — 

deserter — in — 'Seventy-eight.' " 
Then he loosened his hold on the bag of gold, and 

clutched at the flag o'er his head, 
And he struggled to speak — but his voice grew 

weak — then I looked — and the man was 
dead. 



[60] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



FLAHERTY'S GHOST 

Flaherty died o' fever, at the close of an Eastern 

day. 
Died aboard the tramp "Eliza," in the gulf o' 

Sibuguey. 
Flaherty died o' fever, an' we shuffled the cards an' 

drew 
To see who'd bury Flaherty — from out the Irish 

crew. 
Flaherty made but one request before he died, sez 

he: 
"Now mind ye put me in a box, whiniver ye bury 

me." 
The divil a bit fer a corpse agin, we'd put on lugs 

at sea, 
But whin Flaherty died, the crew all agreed they'd 

treat him respectfully. 
So the tramp hove to, an' the lots they fell to the 

second mate an' meself . 
A box we made an' laid him in, an' we built fer 

his head a shelf; 
Lashed to his feet a grate bar or two, to steady 

him on his ride, 
Nailed him tight, an' swung him clear, an' lowered 

him over the side; 
[61] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

Eased him down where the dingy lay, an* we 

handled him tenderly — 
An' we pulled away: The mate, McVey, meself, 

an' Flaherty. 

The moon came out o' the rollin' sea, as big as a 

capstan head, 
The oar locks creaked, an' the trade winds moaned 

an' the mate he looked at the dead. 
We rose on the breast of a ground sea swell, fer 

we neared Illana Bay; 
" 'Tis no place here to bury the dead, four fathoms 

sheer away, 
We need," sez I, an' we dared not wait fer the 

drift of the changin' tide. 
So we out in the teeth of anor'east trade, where the 

deep sea billows ride. 
We rolled in the trough of a rough beam sea — 

an' our flesh began to creep 
As we looked at the load — but with nivver a 

word, we tumbled it into the deep. 
A bit of a splash wuz all that we heard — an' the 

coffin sank from sight; 
The low winds sighed, an' we pulled away, into 

the sea locked night. 

"He's down to stay," sez the second mate, as he 

heaved a sigh at me. 
Sez I: "'Tis so, an' it's sure good-bye to poor old 

Flaherty." 

[62] 



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Now the mate wuz nivver a brave man at all, an' 

he pulled a shaky stroke 
As he gazed astern, an' the moon shone full on his 

face — but he nivver spoke, 
Till o' sudden he stiffened, an' dropped his oars, 

an' he stared like a man insane: 
"Saints above us, Mike," sez he, "He's comin' 

back again!" 
I looked, a' sure he wuz doin' that same — an' 

it didn't look good to me — 
Fer bolt upright on a followin' sea, bobbin', wuz 

Flaherty ! 
The mate he prayed, an' the seas came in, fer we 

rode to a floodin' tide — 
I thought o' me home in the County o' Clare — 

then looked to the starb'd side, 
An' there, hard by, in a bight o' the seas, so close 

I could nigh leap the space, 
Wuz Flaherty's coffin, the lid busted through, an' 

from it stuck Flaherty's face! 

Now the mate he wuz nivver a brave man at all, 

an' as fer meself — nivver mind; 
Twas a case of meself an' the mate, ye can see — 

or Flaherty, comin' behind; 
Fer the passin' looked bad, without shiftin' our 

course — an' Flaherty wuz set in his ways — 
So a boat hook I snatched, an' whin Flaherty 

passed, I lammed him a couple, midways 

[63] 



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'Twas the last of Flaherty, but I swear to this day, 
whin we shuffle the cards fer the deal, 

The mate he turns pale, an' he speaks not a word, 
but gazes away out to sea — 

An' the crew all allows that he thinks o' the night 
whin we buried Flaherty. 



[64] 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



HOMEWARD BOUND 

We're leaving the East. 

Do you know what it means? 
Have you known it, adored it, 

And drunk in its scenes; 
Cursed it, abhorred it — 

Yet played it to win? 
This land steeped in beauty, 

And reeking with sin, 
Where your conscience creeps out, 

And the devil creeps in, 
When the spell o' the East 

Gets under your skin. 
Have you sought it — then thought it 

The worst in the world? 
In its maelstrom of gayety, 

Dizzily whirled, 
Have you fought it? to thwart it 

You tried? Then, outwitted, 
And — drunk with the ecstasy 

Of it — submitted? 
Merciful East! 

Oh, the balm in thy stings! 
Oh, the sweet lethargy 

That thy bitterness brings ! 
Land of rare beauty 

[65] 



$j MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

From near, and afar; 
From the white snows of Fuji 

To the white harbor bar. 
Where the cherry bloom petals 

O'er the pathways are strewn, 
The rice fields are waving, 

And, soft, comes the croon 
Of the wind in the pine trees 

Afar on the hill; 
The chimes in the temples 

Never are still. 
The chant at the altars 

Is ceaseless, and low, 
As the silent celestials 

Pass to and fro. 
Land of the Jap, 

And the pig-eyed Chinee, 
Of heathen tradition 

And weird fantasy; 
Idols, and shrines, 

And grinning brass gods 
(By Buddha approved 

With omnipotent nods). 
For the Evil One, dragons 

Reach out with their claws, 
Spitting javelins of flame 

From their hideous maws. 
Land where the germs 
Of the cholera lurk, 

[66] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

And pestilence thrives 

In the filth and the murk; 
Where men's skill and cunning 

Are matched in the mart; 
Like the three-piece-ie dollar, 

Deceit is their art. 
Here, the oldest of temples, 

The sacredest shrines, 
Sensuous women, 

And choicest of wines. 
Oft, we've watched the sleek liners 

Creeping eastward to sea, 
Their steel hearts, with indifference, 

Throbbing lazily. 
Full heavy, our hearts, 

As they wended their way 
To the land we'd return to, 

God willing, some day. 
We've been here three years, 

And it seems fully ten. 
We're wise for coming — 

We may come again. 
O land, where traditions 

Of dead dynasties ring! 
'Round thy crumbling temples 

Fond memories cling. 
We're leaving this fair land 

Of rickshaws, and things, 
Land where the almond-eyed 

[67] 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES jj 



Geisha girl sings. 
Going back to God's country 

Where the code is the same 
For the morals of padre, 

Or demi-monde dame. 
Where the passions of men 

Speak less of the beast, 
And their honor, far-reaching, 

As West is from East. 

Ere the sun's o'er the fore-yard 

We'll be on our way. 
We're fly in' the homeward 

Bound pennant today. 



[68] 






$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



THE CALL OF THE SEA 

Have you ever stood on a lonely shore beside the 

restless sea, 
With only the sound of the breakers' roar, and 

your thoughts, for company? 
Have you watched the billows rise and swell, till 

their crests were tipped with spray? 
Have you felt the silence before they fell, seen the 

them quiver and totter and sway, 
Poised like a bird, its pinions lashing, in vain, the 

tempest to soar; 
And then in a crashing, plunging, dashing column 

advancing o'er 
Their prostrate ones, where the swift ebb runs, 

heard them break with a mighty roar 
And a rumble like booming of distant guns echoed 

along the shore? 

Have you gazed seaward till your eyes were dim 

and your rapture knew no bond, 
Watched the twilight shades on the purple rim, 

and wondered what's beyond? 
Have you stood alone in God's great room, when 

the sunset was tinting each wall, 
Was your soul too narrow to quite consume the 

splendor of it all? 

[69] 



$ MAN-O'-WAB RHYMES $ 

Were you awed by the grandeur, borne upward 

until heaven seemed nearer to you — 
Did the vastness, the farness of God's nature 

thrill, till it got you, through and through? 
Have you lingered at night on a friendly shore, 

lost in some fond reverie, 
Heard a voice through the din of the breakers' 

roar? Friend, that was the call of the sea! 

Have you mused o'er the waves and tried to peer 

through, pondered the silence they gave, 
Gasped at the thought of the depths they lead to, 

where millions have found a grave? 
Did you think of the treasure and secrets they 

hold, those fathoms of darkness below, 
Of the wealth of the nations, more precious than 

gold, that has gone there — and is to go? 
Have you seen the grace of the gull on the wing, 

as he poised on a foamy crest, 
Heard the petrel's cry, seen the bosun-bird swing 

through the heavens with never a rest? 
Have you watched the winged denizens leap, or 

the porpoises diving at play, 
Through the mist the red orb of the sun sink to 

sleep, and the redder one rise at day? 

Have you studied the fleecy, breeze driven clouds, 
as they hung o'er a summer sea, 

[70] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

Seen them rift and drift, like silken shrouds of 

shim'ring transparency? 
Do you know the scowling nimbus head, or the 

sign of the mackerel sky, 
Have you watched the waves where the shadows 

sped, as the gathering clouds rolled by? 
Seen the white caps play 'neath a cloudless sky, 

and sport their emerald hue, 
Seen the darkening waves, when the clouds drew 

nigh, reflect their deepest blue? 
Heard the tempest howl, seen the heavens scowl, 

and the sea grow inky black, 
The clouds hurl javelins of flame, with a growl, 

and the mad waves hurl them back? 

Have you sighed for these voices of nature again, 

have you longed for the wild of the sea, 
From the centres of toil and the haunts of men, 

has your fettered soul strained to be free? 
Has the wanderlust harnessed your guiding star, 

is there a yearning for somewhere to be, 
A restless desire for lands ocean far? You know, 

then, the call of the sea. 



[71 



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MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



SERGEANT REILLY 

The "Prince," that's what they called him; 

Pat Reilly was his name; 
The whitest little sergeant, Jim, 

In all the fightin' game. 
His heart was where the chevron 

Of another man 'u'd be, 
An' always kind o' shinin' on 

His whole company. 

I'll tell ye they're not makin' men 

Like Sergeant Reilly now; 
An', Jim, as sure as shootin', when 

We've had our last pow-wow, 
An' Gabri'l sounds the last assembly 

For good marines to fall 
In with their comrades, you will see 

Pat Reilly lead 'em all. 

But I wuz goin' to tell ye, Jim, 

(Confound it, boy, my eyes 
Are waterin' so), — the thoughts o' him 

They jest make some thin' rise 
Up here, and kind o' choke me; well, 

You've heard o' San Juan hill, 
An' how the army give 'em hell 

Fer an' hour or two until 
[72] 






$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

The navy guns, from down the bay, 

Were p'inted up the banks, 
An' how the army won the day 

With jackies on their flanks? 
Well, I was campin' down that way, 

An', Jim, I'll tell ye right, 
The only hell I saw that day 

Was Sergeant Reilly's fight. 

We were ordered up to fill 

The gaps the Spaniards made; 
We flanked the left, and charged the hill 

With Shafter's main brigade. 
The shot an' shell began to pour 

From block-house and from trenches; 
The shrapnel 'round us burst an' tore, 

The air was full o' stenches. 

Shafter's men were droppin' fast; 

The hill got rough and steeper; 
An' every charge we made, we passed 

The dead a-pilin' deeper. 
I saw the Cap'n fall, an' then 

The First Lieutenant follered; 
The fire was witherin' our men, 

The ranks were thin an' hollered. 

They waited for the word again, 
Their blood up for repeatin' 

[73] 



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MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



The charge, when, Jim, my God! our men, 
Yes, Jim, they wuz retreatin' ! 

Then I heard on awful yell, 
An' saw a flag a-wavin' ; 

An' in that avalanche o' hell 
An' din o' groans an' ravin', 

Was Sergeant Reilly wavin' toward 

The scattered ranks, our pennant, 
An' in his hand he held the sword 

Of our First Lieutenant. 
He beckoned, yelled, then leaped an' stood 

Above us like a child. 
We rallied — as he knew we would — 

An' then, by God! he smiled. 

The guns were meltin' Shafter's men, 

Like sunshine melts the dew. 
They charged an' fell, an' charged again, 

An' each time left a few. 
They tried to reach the foot-hill trench, 

They fought for hill-side lee; 
Their musketry had failed to quench 

The block-house battery. 

We follered Reilly where he led, 
We climbed the rugged reach; 
Our comrades fell, and over dead 
We crept into the breach. 

[74] 



MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

Higher! Higher! Up the grade 

We drove the dusky devils, 
From hole an' ditch an' ambuscade 

We broke their hellish revels. 

We led the regulars, at last, 

The block-house loomed up nearer; 
The snipers' haunts were clearin' fast, 

Their game was gettin' dearer. 
In open ranks we gained the hill, 

We stormed that shack o' death, 
An' charged the swarmin' hive until 

We felt the guns' hot breath. 

We poured the lead like all hell fire 

Through port hole, chink an' door; 
We dropped, an' on our bellies higher 

Crawled, an' give 'em more. 
The order came to charge again 

(I can hear it ringin' yet). 
Sergeant Reilly faced his men 

An' every beggar met 

That kind o' look we knew so well, 

That made men want t' die 
For him. (WTiy, we'd 'a' charged through hell 

An' never questioned why.) 
An' when he leaped ahead a pace 

An' stood there, without cover, 

[75] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

A soldier's smile upon his face, 
As calm as any lover, 

The air so full o' smoke an' shells 

— It seemed like they would blind us — 
You should 'a' heard the cheers an' yells 

From Shafter's men behind us. 
God ! but how we fought 'em back, 

The block-house was surrounded, 
An' roof, an' floor, an' shrapnel crack 

Were stuffed with dead an' wounded. 

One battery yet was speakin' loud 

An' our front ranks were pourin' 
Metal fast, but through the cloud 

O' smoke she kept on roarin'. 
Then Reilly spied the block-house door, 

All sort o' cracked, an' burnin', 
An' with a score o' men or more 

He charged! An' then a-turnin' 

(Yes, Jim, I recollect it well), 

His face grew ghastly white, 
An', then, he crumpled up an' fell: 

My God! Jim, what a sight! 
Well, I guess that's 'bout all, Jim, 

'Cept I was by his side 
Before the boys had hardly missed him 

— An' in my arms he died. 

[76] 



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MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 



O' course, the army won the day, 

'Cause when the sergeant fell 
Our boys, like yaller hounds at bay, 

Jest turned an' run like hell. 
Then Shafter's men came on the run 

An' charged the block-house door; 
O' course they silenced that one gun, 

An', well — there wa'n't no more! 

I jest thought I'd tell ye, Jim, 

How Sergeant Reilly died. 
(There, son, my old eyes are dim 

Again) I s'pose it's pride 
That comes o' servin' (seems to me) 

A man that's white clean through, 
'N' on judgment day, Jim, I hope we 

Can tell him so, — don't you? 



77 



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TO AN ALBATROSS 

O winged oracle of the seas, 
Seer of the Antipodes ! 
Nestling where the crests of spray 
Kiss your wings of pearly gray, 
And your breast of snowy white — 
Half at rest, half in flight, 
As I watch you out at sea. 
Queen of birds, you seem to me, 
As you poise and wheel, and toss 
On the waves, O Albatross ! 

Fairest of the conjurers 
You have been to mariners. 
Mistress of their destinies; 
Fate and fortune on the seas. 
Prophet, sage, in you they ken, 
As you hover over men 
Born in superstition's grip, 
Reared in romance of the ship, 
Taught to fear and love the sea — 
Mandates of heredity. 
Denizens of nature's wild, 
Simple as the faith of child, 
Trusting God, the winds and tide, 
And the sun and stars to guide. 
[78] 



($j MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

Fearless of the worst at sea — 
Fearful of all mystery. 
Creatures of the stranger moods, 
Servants of the latitudes, 
By the aid of nature's forces 
Shaping their uncertain courses; 
Harnessing the elements, 
By them linking continents. 
So the seamen live and die, 
Knowing not a human tie — 
Knowing not a faith or creed — 
Pledging not a word or deed — 
Stronger than their loyalty 
To the service of the sea. 

Students of the greater school, 
Learning by the sterner rule 
Of experience — and God 
Suffers not to spare the rod, 
In His flogging room, the woe 
Of the tempest's wrath, they know. 
Well they know the awful cost, 
When their barks are tempest tossed, 
Of a weakened yard, or stay. 
Well they ponder on the way 
Stormy petrels take their flight, 
Or the falling mist at night. 
As they heed the mackerel sky, 
So they watch the sea birds fly. 

[79] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

In the petrel's low unrest — 

Like the cloud bank in the west — 

In the sea gull's carrion greed, 

Messages the seamen read, 

Of the nearness of the storm, 

Or, the floating corpse's form. 

But your flight is one of weal, 

When your gray wings flash and wheel 

O'er the ocean's misty hem, 

Just your coming means to them 

Omen of fair winds, to cross 

Their troubled course, Albatross! 



[80] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES 



GRUB 

Y' can soldier in a training camp 

Fer ninety days er so; 
An' hike until y' get a cramp 

In every bloomin' toe; 
Y' can curry down th' hosses, 

Carry slops, er dig a trench; 
Mind a dozen cook tent bosses, 

Spread a mess er scrub a bench: 
Y' can sleep without complainin' 

With a bunkie that's a dub; 
March in sun, er when it's rainin', 

But ye must have grub! 

Grub! 
Grub! 



Y' can board an Army transport, 

With a couple thousand guys; 
Throw a front an' be a sport — 

Chew tobacker an' look wise; 
Y' can roll up in yer blankit 

Somewheres on th' upper deck, 
Till ye feel a deck hand yank it 

Off, an' souse ye in th' neck; 

[81] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

Y* can stand at drill, er quarters 

When she's rollin' like a tub, 
Till yer green as shaller waters — 
Then ye won't want grub ! 

Grub! 
Grub! 



82 



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MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES 



THE BALANCE 

What matters who you were back there — 
What wealth was yours, or mine — 

If hailed, well met, at club affair, 
Or where you went to dine. 

What gain that you the gods endow, 

Or me they scorn to meet; 
Life's red inked entries tally now, 

On war's great balance sheet. 

What good that you were grubbing ore 

Where social strata ran; 
Your rifle pit now reeks with gore, 

And you're a fighting man. 

What matters you're a thoroughbred, 
When we're knee deep in mud — 

With shrapnel screaming overhead — 
Can blood be more than blood? 

You're only one of the boys, out here, 

— Can never this law defy — 
You've an equal chance for all that's dear, 

And an equal chance to die. 

[83] 



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THE ROOKIE 

When you are a rookie, an' most o' the crew 
Are natcherly makin' a goat out o' you; 
The ship is unsteady — an' you are too sick 
To turn to an' swing up your bloomin' hammick — 
Jest break out a blanket an' roll up on deck — 
Don't mind if some lubber does step on your 

neck — 
You've joined the outfit, so show 'em your grit; 
Buck up an' be happy — you're doin' your bit. 

When letters from home are all trembly an' blue, 
An' matters back there are discouraging you; 
When the pages are blurred, for the tears in the 

way, 
Jest up with your neck'ch'f an' brush 'em away, 
Then roll up th' makin 's — forget what has 

been — 
An' mosey up for'ard where th' gang is, an' grin. 
You're only a rookie, but shoulder your kit; 
Buck up an' be happy — you're doin' your bit. 

If your ship is torpedoed an' sinks like a lead, 
An' half the crew's wounded — the other half 
dead — 

[84] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES (jj 

You're all shot to pieces, an' somewhere in France 
You're laid up in bed, an' your life is all chance, 
Why, think of the glory of jest bein 9 there! 
Your shattered old leg it will do for a pair — 
— An' you were in range, or you wouldn't a' 

got hit — 
So, buck up — be happy — you're doin' your bit. 



85 



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THE MEN OF THE SEA 

Have you felt the appeal, seen life in the real, 

Of the men who people the seas? 

Have you thought as they think, felt what they 

feel, 
Touched elbows with such men as these? 

Big hearted and sturdy, simple and true, 
Toil calloused, carefree and brave; 
Full chested, red blooded — these men who do 
And dare, in the life on the wave. 

Have you stood on the bridge with the watches 

at night? 
Have you taken a trick at the wheel? 
Have you hungered, and frozen? Been stabbed in 

a fight? 
You know, then, the things that they feel. 

Do you know the plight, on a storm ridden night, 

Of the lonely mid- watch at the helm? 

Gulped in the blackness, and bludgeoned with 

fright — 
Lost in a tempest torn realm? 
[86] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES 

With oilskins wrapped to his shivering form, 
Stiff with the sleet and the snow; 
Lashed by the flail of the biting storm, 
And the cold, when it's twenty below. 

Alone with the sea, in a hell of its own, 
Crouching for lee where he can; 
Blinded, and chilled clean through to the bone 
God! But it takes a man. 



[87] 



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THE LURE OF THE EAST 

This is the spell of the Orient — 

The lure of the far, far East, 

A lure that is soft and luxuriant — 

A bidding to sate of a feast 

That is spread with the viands of pleasure, 

Replenished again and again. 

And music, each sensuous measure 

Attuned to the passions of men. 

In a land where little is given — 

Where the game is to buy and to sell. 

In a land with the virtues of Heaven — 

A land with the sinning of hell. 

You come to the East with a conscience 
And the failures of others to guide. 
For a while you are upright and honest — 
And God only knows how you tried. 
Striving at first to be decent — 
Fighting, and losing the fight. 
Taking a drink to be social — 
Hitting it up for the night. 
Then you fall, like the other poor devils — 
Succumb with a grace to your fate. 
It's the spell of the East that has got you, 
As it gets them all, soon or late. 
[88] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

It's the lure of the fly to the grayling — 

Gaudy, and brilliant hued; 

But men are the fools who are trailing — 

And Satan is casting the food. 

It's the call of the quail in the cover — 

The lure of the flame to the moth. 

The call of the thrush for its lover — 

The call of the mate to betroth. 

Softly at first it steals o'er you — 

Dreamy and sweet, like a breath 

Of incense or sandal, o'erwhelming 

Your senses, and silent as death. 

Till the air grows heavy with perfume — 

You're happy, without and within, 

Little you care for what may be — 

And less for what might have been. 

The blissful siesta at midday — 
The drive, in the late afternoon. 
And then for the nightly revel — 
Women, and wine, and the moon. 
The feasting, the music, the dancing — 
The clandestine moments between. 
The sweet-scented gardens enhancing 
A flight from the ball-room scene. 
White shoulders agleam in the moonlight, 
A form that is truly divine. 
Eyes with the dull glow of passion — 
Tongues that are loosened by wine. 
[89] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

The clinking of glasses, and pledges 
Sealed with a kiss of champagne. 
Rollicking songs and laughter — 
A speech from a reeling brain. 



Women as fair as a lily — 

Hair that glistens and glows. 

Skin with the softness of velvet, 

And white as Fuji's snows. 

Lips with the blush of roses, 

Eyes that sparkle with wine. 

The perfume of blown cherry blossoms, 

And flowered wistaria vine. 

But the roses will fade in the morning, 

When the rouge and the powder are gone; 

The eyes will cease to be sparkling — 

The cheeks will be pale and wan. 

* * * * 

You are down in the native quarter 
Taking a last little fling, 

Where the samisens creak their weird melodies, 
And the geisha girls dance and sing. 
The stars are reeling and dancing, 
And love is afloat on the breeze. 
Virtue is drowned in a bumper — 
And care in the seven seas. 
The tropical moon is a bibber — 
And he's not the only one. 
[90] 



$ MAN-O'-WAR RHYMES $ 

The bubbles of life are bursting — 

— And the night is not half begun. 

* * * * 

Alone in your ricksha at day-break — 
Remorseful, and bitter with hate. 
Back to your ship, or your barracks — 
Going on duty at eight. 

— And so the night's revel is ended — 
And all of the nights are the same. 
Some are more hellish than others, 
But none of the nights are tame. 
Thus it has been from beginning — 
Thus will it be to the end. 

A power that draws men to sinning — 
A force that will crush, and will rend. 
A lure that is soft and luxuriant — 
A bidding to sate of a feast. 
This is the spell of the Orient — 
The lure of the far, far East. 



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Seaver-Howiano Press 

271 Franklin St. 

VOSTOM 



